Reaping the Whirlwind

It was not long before Donald realized that, whatever had been Judd's
primary purpose, he was now fighting to kill, and he sought desperately
to drive home a blow which would knock him out. But, with all his
greater skill, it was not easily to be accomplished. The mountaineer was
tough, agile and actuated by a rage which mere punishment only
increased. And punishment he took aplenty; while Donald remained almost
unscathed, as he met rush after rush, and a storm of wildly flailing
blows, with an unbroken defence.

Nor was it long before the other realized that absolute necessity called
for him to break through that guard, and clinch with his opponent, if he
were to hope to be successful in carrying out his design. Gathering his
physical forces for a final desperate assault--which right and left hand
blows on his already battered, bleeding face could not check--he broke
through Donald's defence, and flung his sinewy arms about his rival.

For a moment both men clung desperately to one another, their breath
coming in labored gasps.

Then, suddenly, the mountaineer twisted his leg about one of Donald's,
catching him off his guard, and they went heavily to the ground
together.

Whatever had been the city man's advantage when they were on their feet,
he shortly discovered that the woodman's great agility and crude skill
in wrestling gave him the upper hand in this more primitive method of
combat. Over and over they rolled, gasping for breath, and, although
Donald exerted his great, but now rapidly failing, strength, more than
once he felt the clutch of the other's lean, powerful fingers gripping
his throat and shutting off his breath, before he could tear them free.